


Just Eight Cycles

by f0rever15elf



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, injury mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: The child has fallen ill and Din doesn’t know what to do. When he finds you, he barely has enough time to get a diagnosis from you before the Empire once more rear their ugly helmets, forcing him to bring you with him.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian x reader, The Mandalorian x you
Comments: 4
Kudos: 109





	Just Eight Cycles

There are a lot of firsts whenever you become a new parent. First bath, first time trying foods, first time seeing little critters. They’re firsts that all parents go through, firsts that Din has gone through with his little green son. They’ve all been enjoyable firsts, even the first time the kid had levitated him several feet in the air while laughing his little maniacal baby laugh from the ground before setting Din back down gently. But there are other firsts as well, firsts that no parent likes. The first time their child cries. The first nightmares. The first time the parents have to reprimand them. Or in Din’s current case, the first time his child has fallen ill.

“ _Ad’ika?”_ he asks gently, doing his best to keep the worry out of his voice as he strokes the little green one’s ear. The baby had been sleeping more recently, which Din figured was just a symptom of all the action he’s been seeing on the planets they’ve been stopping on. But when the normally insatiable black hole that is his child began refusing to eat, Din grew worried. Now, the babe is swaddled in a blanket and one of Din’s capes as he sleeps in his pram, shivering and whimpering in his fitful sleep.

The worry sets in Din’s stomach like a stone. He has no idea how to help his son, and this helpless feeling is not one he enjoys. Swiveling around in his chair, he pulls up the map of the local region, looking for a planet with decent medical facilities. Hyperspace is rough on the body, and with the child already being ill, he doesn’t want to risk exacerbating the problem. However, being in the Unknown Regions, reliable help would be hard to come by, and the threat of the Empire is ever present. He swears under his breath as he flicks through the list of nearby planets. So many of the planets out here are aquatic or frozen hellholes, which simply wouldn’t work. Din’s frustration mounts until he lands on the name Avidich, along the Vaagari Corridor of the Chiss Ascendancy. A primarily mountainous planet would provide a slightly more hospitable environment to care for the child. He punches in the coordinates, making his way to find help for his son.

~~~

Life on Avidich is always the same. Wake up, eat breakfast, head to work, fix broken bones of those who slip down the vertiginous cliffs of the surface, go home, eat dinner, sleep. It’s dismal, really, even if you _do_ get more attention than others as a base human living among the Chiss. One can only chase off advances so many times before it just gets annoying. You could do for a change. How? Well, that you just don’t know. You don’t exactly have the means to do much besides continue your medical work.

Today, you find yourself reclining in your chair in your medical office as you count your ceiling tiles for the thousandth time. Oh look, new cobwebs. Your lips pull into a frown when you hear a ruckus outside, whispers and murmurs sounding louder than anything you normally hear as you see a cluster of people blocking your doorway. Standing, you move to investigate, shoving your way through the group. You aren’t prepared to see the old looking ship touch down on the small docking pad your farming sector has. You’re even less prepared to see a _Mandalorian_ disembark with a bundle in his arms and pulse rifle across his back.

“Your doctor, your healer. Where are they?” His voice is gruff and modulated, but demanding as he makes his way towards the cluster watching him.

“Right here,” says one of the people around you. You’re taken by the arm, thrust forward from your hiding spot behind the taller species towards the metal covered man and you stumble less than gracefully in front of him.

“You’re a healer?” he asks, his voice conveying his no-nonsense attitude.

“I-I am, yes. I’m the only one in this region. Are you in need of assistance?”

“You got an office?”

Your brow pinches in confusion, but you nod, turning to lead him back to your office. Curious red eyes watch from your open doorway as you gesture the Mandalorian to take a seat. That is, until he turns to look over his shoulder at the onlookers, causing them to scatter. You sigh, moving around him to yank the curtain closed for some semblance of privacy. “So, are you hurt? What’s wrong?” You make your way back around him, leaning against your desk as you look down at him.

“Not me. Him.” He carefully tugs down the tattered fabric swaddling a small green… thing? A child?

“What in Maker’s name…?” You crouch over to get a better look and the man instinctively moves away from you. You throw him an irritated glance when he does. “If you want my help, you can’t yank him away from me like that.”

“Careful.”

“I’m a doctor. That’s like my entire _thing_.” You shake your head, reaching out to carefully press the back of your hand to the whimpering creature’s forehead. “He’s hot. Is he normally hot?”

“He’s hotter than normal.”

“Fever, okay. I’m going to take a couple of samples to see if we can figure out what’s got the little guy down. Then I can get you something for treatment. Wait here.” The metal man grunts, tugging the blanket back around his son as you move to the drawers to pull out the samplers you need. “Blood and saliva samples should reveal pretty much anything that’s ailing him.”

“Blood?” You can feel the eyes boring into your back as you pull out the vials.

“Yes, blood. Just a little bit, then we incinerate the samples once we’re done with them. Standard practice.” The Mandalorian is tense as he sits there, cradling the little bundle to his chest in a very protective manner and you sigh, setting everything down before crouching in front of him. “Look, Mr. Mandalorian. I’m not going to hurt your child. I’m a healer, it goes against everything in me to cause undue harm to any creature. But I can’t help you effectively if you don’t let me. I don’t know what species your son is, so I need to rely on my equipment to help, if you want my help. This is my job, you sought me out for this assistance so please, let me offer it.” The man is still for a moment as he processes your words before slowly undoing the bundle and lifting the sleeve of the child’s coat to grant you access to his arm. You give him a grateful smile before picking up the sampler and setting it against the skin. “One, two, three.” With the tiniest of clicks, it’s done, a small sample floating in the matrix of the vial. You quickly wipe the site with a bacta wipe, watching as the small puncture site heals over.

“That’s it?” The Mandalorian actually sounds surprised, even through his modulator and you smile, nodding.

“I told you, it isn’t much. The Chiss supply me with the most up to date technology they can to help me care for their ill and wounded. You’d be hard pressed to find much further advanced tech even on places like Coruscant.” Next is the cheek swab, and you quickly tear open the swab packet, talking the Mandalorian through what you would do next before taking the sample and standing, moving to your analysis machine. You feed it the two samples and let it start processing. “This will take a few moments,” you say as you turn to lean against the wall with arms crossed as you watch the worried father with his son cradled against him.

“So tell me,” you finally speak up after a minute or two. The visor turns just enough to acknowledge you and you tilt your head a bit. “What’s a Mandalorian doing in the Unknown Regions? Don’t you know this whole area is festering with the remains of the Empire?” You know the legends, you had heard the stories. The destruction of Mandalore, the extermination of the fleeing tribes. It’s a brutal and bloody history, one that keeps his kind away from where that memory still burns like white hot durasteel. After the collapse of the Empire, the Unknown Regions became the last bastion of their crumbling hold. Too often you had faced down Imperial troops as they demanded any and all supplies your little holding had to offer, and it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“I was on a job when the kid got sick. I didn’t have a choice. Can’t hyper when I don’t know if it’ll make things worse. We won’t be here long.” The tension in his voice is obvious, he knows this place is dangerous for him and he doesn’t need to be reminded of that fact.

The machine buzzes, indicating the end of the cycle as it transmits the results to your datapad before sending the samples to the incineration compartment. “Well, good news and bad news,” you sigh as you open the data transmission. “Good news is it’s a common viral illness. Causes chills, head and body aches, fever, loss of appetite, and fatigue. He’ll be fine so long as when he’s awake you can get some water into him. The bad news is that it’ll take upwards of seven standard cycles to run its course.”

“I don’t have seven cycles. I need to be off surface by tomorrow, sunrise. Isn’t there _something_ you can do with all of this high tech equipment?”

“The only cure is to let it run its course. I have medicines for the symptoms, but nothing to treat the cause. You just have to watch him.” The datapad hits the desk with a thud as you toss it down, crossing your arms again as the Mandalorian looks down at his whimpering son before whispering to him in some language you don’t recognize. A knock on the door frame draws your attention, Simmina poking her head through with worry creasing her brow. “I’m with a patient right now, can this wait?”

She shakes her head urgently. “You’ll want to come see this. It’s a transmission from base camp.” With a sigh, you push off the desk to follow her.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes to give you some medicine. Wait here.” The Mandalorian grunts as you make your way outside. “Now what is so important that you need to interrupt me with a patient? You know I hate when you do that.”

“It’s the Empire again,” she whispers lowly to you and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as your mouth goes dry. “They’re down at base camp, looking for the Mandalorian and something they call ‘the Asset.’”

“You’re absolutely sure they’re at base camp right now?” She nods and you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “He needs to get off planet _now._ ” The options race through your head at lightning speed, adrenaline slowly seeping into your veins. “Contact base camp. Tell Commander Kenims to send their backup doctor up here, and to start training a new one.” Simmina’s confusion is clear on her face as you talk. “I’m going with him, Simms. He’s going to need help with the kid and I can’t just send him off in good conscience. I think… it’s time I take my leave of the Ascendancy.”

You’re already turned, heading back in the direction of your office when she grabs your arm, brow creased. “Are you sure about this? You don’t even know him, he could kill you!”

“And if I stay and the Empire finds out I helped him, they _will_ kill me. The rest of you need to hide, but I need to go with him. Simms, you’re my best friend, I need you to understand what I need to do here.”

Simmina’s crimson eyes bore into yours for a moment that seems to stretch into forever before she finally lets go of your arm, nodding. “I’ll get your things together. You go get them ready to go and I’ll meet you at his ship.” A smile splits your lips before you wrap your arms around her middle in a hug which she returns. When you let go, she nods at you, determined, before heading off to go get your things as you race to the office.

“Mandalorian!” you call, startling him as he whips around in the chair.

“What is it?”

“We need to get off surface _now._ The Empire has scouts at base camp. We have a little time to get off world and get into hyperspace.”

“But what about -”

“That’s why I’m coming with you. I’ll take care of any hyperspace complications.” With a sweep of your arm, you knock some idle paperwork to the ground to be replaced by your medical kit which you promptly begin packing, including your datapad.

“Hold on just a minute,” he protests, rising to his feet. “I never said you could come with me.”

“And just what will you do when you jump and something goes wrong with your child and you have nowhere to go with the Empire hot on your cape, huh? Then what? You _can’t_ be that stupid or stubborn. Not if you’ve made it this far.”

Din startles at the comment, clenching his teeth behind the visor as he locks eyes with you. The hand not holding the child clenches and unclenches at his side before he finally relents. He knows you’re right, he’s out of options, and in the end he needs to do what’s best for the kid. He could vet you along the way, and worst case he could toss you in carbonite to jettison you into the cold grip of space if you even made yourself out to be a danger to him or the kid. “Fine,” comes the clipped response. “But this is a temporary gig. As soon as the kid is better, I’m dropping you off on the nearest habitable planet.”

You can deal with that. It wouldn’t be the first time you had been left somewhere to make due. “I’ll meet you at the ship as soon as I’m packed. My friend will be there with some of my belongings. I don’t expect I’ll be making it back here any time soon.” You flash him a smile before turning to finish packing. “Go, get ready to get out of here. We don’t have much time.” With that, the Mandalorian makes his exit, child still in his arms.

Once aboard the ship, Din lays the child in his pram, closing the lid as he preps the ship for take off. A feeling of unease settles in his stomach. The Empire had tracked him out here far too easily. He knew taking a job in the Unknown Regions was a dicey move, but he’s strapped for credits, and the Crest needs an overhaul. He grumbles under his breath and he flicks switches and presses buttons, typing in coordinates for somewhere decently far from here. Naboo would do for now. When everything is prepped, he makes his way down from the cockpit to the ramp to wait for you, leaning casually against the ramp supports.

The first to approach him is not you. Rather, it is the Chiss woman who came to talk to you. Her face is drawn tight, serious as she sets a duffel bag at his feet. “You listen here, you shiny tin can. You _will_ take care of my best friend, or I will hunt you down and put an end to you myself.” At any other time, the threat would be comical. There’s no way this woman could hunt down a Mandalorian, an apex bounty hunter. But Din knows it is out of concern for you that she makes her claims, and so he nods as he extends his hand to her.

“For the time they’re with me, I’ll take care of them.” Simmina takes his hand in hers, shaking it firmly enough to cause Din to wince under the helmet before she leaves to usher her people underneath the mountains. Not long after, you wander up, your med kit over your shoulder and an artificial smile on your face.

“Let’s get off this rock,” you say lightly as you stride up the ramp past the Mandalorian. He grunts in reply, closing the ramp behind you both after grabbing your duffel. “Where’s the kid?”

Din drops your duffel by a cot embedded in the wall of the cargo hold that’s currently being used for storage before inclining his head up to the cockpit. “He rides with me,” he states simply, moving to make his way up.

“Makes sense,” you shrug, setting the med kit down before following, the medicines you need in your pockets. There’s a copilot seat in the cockpit, and you’re grateful seeing as how you won’t have to stand as you tend to the baby and fight off the vertigo of hyperspace at the same time. The Mandalorian takes his seat and you yours and within moments the Crest is airborne, tearing out of the atmosphere of the planet you had called home for years. It’s a bittersweet thing, to watch the horizon slip away from you.

Once safely in hyperspace, the Mandalorian presses a button on his vembrance, opening the little pod floating next to you to reveal the sleeping child. “Do what you need to,” he intones, turning his chair just enough to watch you as you work.

With careful hands, you lift the little green thing from his bed, cradling him to you before fishing out a dissolvable tablet. “This should help keep his fever from getting too high, and should help him sleep better.” You’ve returned to spelling out everything you’re doing, well aware that the Mandalorian has zero reason to trust you beyond your claim to be a doctor. He doesn’t stop you as you slip the tablet into the baby’s mouth under his tongue. Gently you run your fingers along his ear, smiling at the softness of the little peach fuzz that covers it. “He should sleep better for a while.” Your voice is a whisper as you smile at the strange child in your arms as he slowly lulls into a less fitful rest before you lay him back into his pram. All the while, the Mandalorian never stops watching you. Not until you stand up.

“The cot where I set your bag is for you. Just… put the crates somewhere else. I have a blanket you can use that I’ll bring you in a little while.” He turns back to face the control panel, missing the smile on your face.

“Thank you, Mandalorian. For allowing me to come with you. I’ll make myself scarce.” With that, you descend into the cargo hold to arrange your quarters. Din waits for things to grow quiet below deck before he relaxes into his seat, watching the hyperspace stars stretch past the transparisteel. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

By your fourth cycle with the Mandalorian, you’ve already settled into a nice routine with caring for the child. His fever has gone down and he spends more time awake and staring at you with his big brown eyes. Thankfully, hyperspace didn’t seem to bother the child at all and his recovery is progressing smoothly. You spend most of your time in the cockpit with Mando, the child sitting in your lap as you stroke his ears or tickle his cheeks. Those eyes of his tell you he knows far more than he’s able to convey, and you adore it. Occasionally, he would drift off against your chest and the warm weight of him would quickly lull you to sleep as well, curled up in the copilot’s chair.

Din would watch you from behind his visor as he cleaned his blaster yet again, a gentle smile slowly spreading across his lips at the sight of the two of you sleeping soundly. He decides that he enjoys your presence, and starts rethinking dropping you off of Naboo once you all arrive and the child is better. The Crest could use a warmth like yours, the child could use someone like you around, and _he_ could use the company even if he hesitates to admit it to himself. Well, he has a few more cycles to figure it out.

Cycle eight hits, and the Mandalorian who you have taken to calling Mando, gently shakes your shoulder from where you have fallen asleep in the copilot seat with the child on your chest. You blink your eyes blearily, looking up at him with sleep heavy eyes. “Hey. We’ll be dropping out of hyper in a few.” A smile flits across your face at first before recognition settles over you and you nod. Mando steps back as you sit up and place the child back in his pram.

“Okay, I’ll go wait in the hold for us to land. Get my things in order.” Your tone is downtrodden, you know it is and you make no move to hide it as you make your way down to your quarters. You don’t see Mando’s outstretched hand. You don’t see the confliction in his eyes as he watches you go. You don’t see how his shoulders slump when he realizes you think he’s about to abandon you on this planet. He swears under his breath, sitting down again as he looks to the child, making his decision. When you touch down, he will ask you to stay.

Down in the cargo hold, you gather your meager belongings, packing your duffel bag before taking a few things from your med kit to leave for your traveling companions. You take a seat on the cot, taking the few moments of silence to steel yourself to what is about to come. You don’t want to say goodbye, but you knew the terms of this deal going in. Just till the kid was better, that was the deal.

The drop out of hyperspace sends a vibration through the Crest, and she groans in protest. Mando really needs to get her fixed up. Not long after dropping from hyper, another vibration shakes the ship as Mando takes her down through the atmosphere. It ends with a final jolt as the landing gear finds purchase and the engine powers down. The countdown clock is ticking now, and it weighs heavy on your shoulders. You stand, moving to the ramp with your bag over your shoulder to wait for Mando who joins you with the child in his pram not long after. You give him a sad smile as he moves past you to open the ramp before slowly following him off.

The air is warm and a light breeze causes a rustling in the leaves of the nearby trees. The tall grass ripples in emerald waves as the sun shines down on the three of you. Of all the places the Mandalorian could have left you, Naboo is one of the less arguable. You turn to him, giving a grateful if not mournful smile. “Thank you, Mando, for allowing me to come with you. And for choosing such a nice planet for me to say goodbye on. Better than somewhere like Tatooine.” You give a soft, humorless chuckle and the Mandalorian simply tilts his head a bit before glancing at the child as you reach to stroke his ear. “You be good for your dad, little one. Okay?” He lets out a whine as his ears droop before looking up at Mando with his big, sad, brown eyes. You aren’t prepared when your name leaves the Mandalorian’s lips as his hand reaches out towards you.

“I want to ask you something.”

“Anything, Mando.” You hitch your bag a little higher on your shoulder, rocking back on your heels. Why not entertain a finla request for the man you’ve grown attached to? 

“Would you stay?” The words almost slur together with how fast he speaks, anxious to get them out before he second guesses himself. 

Your brow furrows at his rushed question. “You mean, on Naboo? I don’t know, it’ll depend on what work I can find.”

“No, no not on Naboo. I mean… would you stay with us? With me and the kid?”

Your lips form a little ‘o’ shape as you realize what he’s asking, your heart beginning to hammer in your chest. “You want me to stay… on the Crest?” Mando nods, hands resting on his hips as he stares down at you through the visor. His own heart hammers beneath his beskar as he waits for your answer, praying to the Maker that you’re willing to stay. In eight short cycles he’s grown so accustomed to you, attached to you, and he doesn’t want to see you go. “Are you sure? I won’t be in the way?”

“I’m sure. The little one could use someone like you around. He likes you.” _I like you_ , he thinks to himself. 

“Well, I like him too.” You reach and rub his head gently, his ears perking up at the gesture. “If you’re sure, I’ll stay. I’ll earn my keep the best way I can, I promise.”

Mando nods, beaming at you behind his visor. “Then go set your things down. No sense in carrying it all into town.” Your heart leaps into your throat at his words, excitement coursing through your veins. Doing as you’re told, you sprint up the ramp to drop your things before running back to Mando with an excited smile on your face. He can’t help the chuckle that escapes him as you stand at his side, eager for the next adventure. “I should make it official then. Welcome aboard the Razor Crest. Welcome home.”

And home it most certainly is. Two people and their little green son, off to explore the galaxy in the grand adventure they call their life. New lands, new people, new adventures, but always the same Razor Crest, the same bunks, the same family. You can think of no better place to call home than at the side of Din Djarin the Mandalorian, your Mandalorian. 


End file.
